


Why Now?

by koffeebeans



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brain Surgery, Death, Depression, Drug Use, Eventual Romance, F/M, Flashbacks, Geez, Human Experimentation, Monster Dust (Undertale), Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Recreational Drug Use, References to Depression, Romance, Slow Burn, Theft, Torture, Very Very Slow Burn, Violence, dont do drugs kids, its kill or be killed, jkjk she just steals her way through the world until she gets caught dont worry, k now that we've got the pain out of the way, more pain, that is not recreational, they may just hate each other to begin with, we'll see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-04 06:26:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17299457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koffeebeans/pseuds/koffeebeans
Summary: A defining characteristic all scientists share is overwhelming curiosity. The craving to know the unknown, to reveal, to discover; it’s hard to miss the light in their eyes when they’ve found something of interest. Quick minds at precise work to uncover more, more, more, and sometimes, quick hands methodically creating masterpieces out of their discoveries.Not always is this a good thing. You must remember that any good scientist has moral standards when it comes to his or her experiments. If not, things will go wrong. There is no such thing as might go wrong - only a definite answer applies to this rule. If you decide to test your experiments in a controlled environment with the correct tools and a vision of positivity, you will succeed despite the outcome, but…Well, there is always a but, isn’t there?





	1. The Anomaly, The Enigma

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time even... attempting a real fic. Everything has been short wips, so I have to thank a discord server for entertaining one of my prompts, giving me the courage to actually try it. Hope you enjoy the first chapter.... audible wink.

A defining characteristic all scientists share is overwhelming curiosity. The craving to know the unknown, to reveal, to discover; it’s hard to miss the light in their eyes when they’ve found something of interest. Quick minds at precise work to uncover more, more,  _ more,  _ and sometimes, quick hands methodically creating masterpieces out of their discoveries.

Not always is this a good thing. You must remember that any good scientist has moral standards when it comes to his or her experiments. If not, things  _ will go wrong.  _ There is no such thing as  _ might go wrong _ \- only a definite answer applies to this rule. If you decide to test your experiments in a controlled environment with the correct tools and a vision of positivity, you will succeed despite the outcome, but… 

Well, there is always a but, isn’t there?

She rolled her shoulders forward. The mud caking her skin had dried and began to crack. Pieces of dirt peeled off her body in chunks, taking peachy hair with it. To anybody else, it fell silently at her feet, breaking apart further against rough concrete, but her ears caught the muffled shatter of earth. They heard everything inside her woodland enclosure; everything except for the voices behind the glass. 

The demons disguised in skin and white coats had given her a room about a mile wide, long, and tall, nearly five years ago. A dirt floor cut the room in half by height, however, and the trees (as genetically modified as herself) made it feel a little cramped. There were no cracks nor openings to be found - even the door became seamless when shut, making the enclosure air-tight. The only source of an opening was the window and a few oxygen vents on the ceiling. Escape was futile. Why would she ever think of trying?

But she  _ remembered _ . She remembered the eight year old child that made it out. A delicate face, a determined smile, an overwhelming power. Their real name was a mystery to her, but she had dubbed them the Anomaly, just as the scientists did. 

The issue was that nobody but her remembered. When she cried out for the child to help her during her night terrors, to save her as they’d saved themselves, the torture and  _ experimentation  _ had increased exponentially. While she lied limp and stark naked on an operating table, her head cut open and the feeling of sharp knives in her brain, figures blurred by the lights overhead consoled her with promises to rid her of the insanity she now faced by giving her something to focus on. 

She supposed now, four years after the surgery, that whatever they’d done was finally settling. It had been agonizing to control - being so  _ aware  _ of everything _.  _ The pain of hearing leaves rustle under the oxygen vents used to make her ears bleed almost constantly, unless she slept against the almost invisible seam of the door. Her eyes saw so much…  _ more.  _ She saw the magic in the trees, flooding the roots and keeping them on the seasonal schedule without knowing the weather beyond the walls. The oxygen vents were plagued with what seemed to be sparkling dust, but it was clouded with an aura of magic as well. Everything seemed to move slowly when she focused on it hard enough, but if she  _ really  _ wanted to, one concentrated glance at a shaking leaf would make it imobile for as long as she could keep from blinking.

A deep breath. Lungs constricted, expanded, pushing against her ribcage. She felt everything, from the blood in her veins to the particles in the air. A sense of calming washed over her as she brought her hands to her chest and felt the thrum of energy collecting at her sternum.

Exactly where her soul sat.

A bright glow beaded at her fingertips. It formed a malleable, white ball, no longer alight. It had the texture of soft rubber that performed like clay, but no matter how she shaped it, it never broke. However, if she closed her eyes and focused on what she wanted it to be… A feather formed in the palm of her hands. It was the same color as the ball and almost the size of her forearm. She held it high above her head in one hand and snapped the fingers of the the other. Almost immediately, a gust of wind carried the rubber-clay feather deeper into the trees. 

She eased a hand to her chest; over her heart. _It hurts_ , she thought as the lights dimmed ever so slightly in the likeliness of the sun setting. That was fine, she was tired anyway. She made a show of brushing dirt off the dirt floor to reveal more dirt, lifting the finger to the cameras she knew were watching very closely. Lying down, she curled into a ball, knees tucking under her chin. With a single breath, she thought _sleep,_ the branches above her stilling, and she slept.

 

*

 

When two minutes turned into thirty on the surface, Sans knew something had changed. Much to Frisk’s chagrin, he kept a watchful socket on them, his grin becoming more and more strained as the time passed. 

Oh stars, and time was _passing._ Thirty minutes shifted into four hours. He could feel warm, sunkissed wind between his bones, on his face, felt as it cooled when the moon rose on Mt. Ebott. Instead of letting Papyrus drift through the trees, looking for new friends as he’d always done before the Reset, Frisk asked him to stay and watch the stars with them. The surface could wait one more day. There was only here and now; the setting of the sun; the moon and the stars; the iridescent tears streaming from the corners of his eye sockets as he finally bore witness to the night sky. He even shortcutted to his room to retrieve his dusty old telescope and set it up on the cliffside, getting the longest look at the galaxies before his nonstop crying lulled him to sleep against a rock, not uncomfortable in the slightest. 

When he awoke to a hot wave on his face, the tears returned tenfold. Frisk sat in his lap, snoring very lightly, and he could not fight the urge to hug them tightly and whisper, “what changed? what changed?”

A day became a week, a week became four years. The child had never answer his question. After millions of resets, he deserved an explanation as to  _ why now.  _ Yet, the twelve-year-old revealed nothing and Sans was left to wonder, as he’d always done. Not that he pondered on it for very long - he had much bigger responsibilities now. Juggling two jobs and a hotdog stand? Sometimes life gave him its  _ wurst,  _ but he kept the graceful grin and smooth jokes coming. Despite everything, it was still him. Despite everything, they were  _ free.  _

However… he knew better than most that good things don’t last forever. When Frisk turned thirteen and they enrolled into a highschool with a higher human than monster ratio, problems arose. 

Big fucking problems.

Firstly, the kid being around humans was more than stressful for them. They preferred their old school, although it wasn’t an option anymore, and adult humans only terrified them more. Sans was afraid all this stress would force them to reset, but so far, they’ve done so good keeping it together, and he couldn’t be more proud. 

Except for when he received the phone call. 

“Mr. Serif? There’s been an incident. The police, well…” 

“spit it out.” He was already checking his wallet for his Monster ID and driver’s license. The police would pester and poke for it until he was near ready to throw it at them, he knew. 

“The police think Frisk, uh, demonstrated  _ magic  _ in the courtyard, due to several students report-“

Sans shortcutted to the principal’s office without listening to the rest. His eyelights found Frisk immediately, curled into a shaking ball in one of the two seats laid out before the short desk, cluttered in miscellaneous belongings. The balding, middle-aged principal was gripping his shirt, breathing ragged as he counted back from ten (probably to keep from having a stroke or heart attack), his wrinkling eyes squeezed shut, the phone swinging back and forth from the line. Voices crowded the hallway - yelling parents, commanding police, and crying children. 

What had they  _ done?  _

“kid,” Sans whispered, wrapping his arms around their trembling shoulders. They hiccuped and cried harder, gripping his blue jacket with fervor. 

“Didn’t mean it, didn’t mean it, I’m s-so  _ sorry- _ “

Shit. “shh, it’s okay, Dunkle’s gotcha. i gotcha.” Sans sent an empty-socket glare toward the principal. “goodbye.” 

They disappeared in thin air and reappeared at home, in the living room. Sans peeled himself away, moving faster than he’d ever had to for a long time because they almost screamed at him in protest. He hurried to bring them a blanket and nice cream from the freezer, but it seemed they’d resorted to their eight-year-old days and just wanted  _ him.  _

So they sat there for hours on the couch, both ignoring their buzzing phones, watching shitty TV in the dark until Papyrus got home. 

Sans deserved to know  _ why now _ . Maybe, after this, he would finally get his answer. 


	2. FIGHT or ACT?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i said it would be today. i'm just horrible with time management. enjoy~

She awoke to the biting cold.

 

Her tormentors - the scientists - were constantly testing her limits to see how far she could physically and mentally go until she hit a breaking point. Rapid weather change seemed to be their favorite form of test. The trees towering above shook with icy wind, clumps of snow falling off bare branches. It was dark, but her eyes adjusted as she blinked once, twice, ridding her eyelashes of crystals. Snow fell thick and was quickly covering her body with a blanket of threatening cold. 

 

She had to move. Two hands met a hard surface and pushed, trying to lift herself, but everything was too heavy. An ache settled deep into her bones. The temperature was dropping fast - way too fast. At this rate, hypothermia would catch up if she could not move, yet she was trying  _ so hard  _ to, and a quick glance at the swirling vents overhead confirmed her growing suspicion. 

 

In between the beautiful particles that glittered like wet snow was a new aura. Or perhaps - she squinted, peering through the blizzard - it was actually some sort of smoke. Had they seriously drugged her? 

 

No time to think, her lungs were constricting the the point of pain as she inhaled more stiff air. A hand touched her sternum and glowed, but instead of forming anything at all, the light grew to encompass her body in a calming warmth. Panicking would get her nowhere and she needed to move. Somehow, the light cut through the fog in her brain and allowed her to at least stumble to her feet and look around… only to hunch over and vomit into the snow. 

 

Being aware,  _ conscious,  _ sucked. Everything was so sensitive that she faltered in her concentration, the glow dissipating to its original small bead. Her stomach rolled again and for a split second, she prayed for the hypothermia, but the dwindling light pulsed in protest. She thought  _ warm  _ and the light grew once more to obey. This time, she did not lose her focus as she lifted one bare foot after the other, dipping into the now knee-high snow that immediately soaked her grey sweatpants and froze the fabric to her skin. 

 

Blue fingers brushed across tree bark as she made her way through the mile long woods, looking for something. She didn’t know what exactly she was searching for, but that was always the point, right? A rat in a maze was sniffing out the cheese, taking the easiest route, turning corners and jumping hoops. It was somewhere around here, she just needed to keep moving, keep her damn eyes open-

 

“Oh-!” Her foot caught something hard and cornered, sending her flailing face-first into the deep snow. Her hands shot out to catch her fall, but it was no use. Sticky snow clumped in her hair and on her face, obscuring her vision. It was so cold it  _ burned. _ On instinct, she sputtered unattractively, wiping off her face with aggravated mutters and curses.  _ At least I  _ found  _ it, whatever it is _ , she thought grimly, brushing snow off a metal cube embedded in the dirt. Well,  _ that  _ was new.

 

White flurries whipped her hair around her face suddenly, blocking her sight, the wind picking up to violent speeds. Then, as quickly as it began, it was over. The snow no longer fell. The wind blew gently and the light returned in a blinding flash. Even the white blanket began to magically melt all around her, soaking into the dirt and making everything wet and muddy. Overwhelming relief filled her as she allowed her magic to fade with it, digging her fingers into the earth, face tilted at the ceiling.

 

She wanted to feel the  _ sun, _ but this was the closest she’d ever get to something so blissful as natural light. She wondered briefly if the child was enjoying the air, the sky, the  _ stars,  _ but it wasn’t a hateful thought. They couldn’t save her. They were eight and not to blame for her continued torture. 

 

Well, she supposed they were around twelve now, weren’t they? Almost thirteen, maybe? If they were still alive, that was, or hadn’t been caught again. 

 

God, she hoped not. 

 

With a shake of her head to clear her mind, she turned back to the box. Or, rather, the cube. The mud allowed her to pull it free from the ground and set it in her lap, searching for an opening. She shook it - there seemed to be nothing inside, although it was heavy and weighted at the bottom. It had an almost mirror finish, yet her reflection was still clouded. She dragged a single finger along one of its smooth faces and - voila! The lid’s seam had been invisible and the heavy box opened with a soft hiss. 

 

Inside was… nothing. 

 

Somewhere above, speakers bellowed a single laugh. She kept her head low, staring into the empty abyss that was the container. 

 

The rat had found the cheese, and as per usual, it was not rewarding. 

 

She had even been…  _ excited,  _ for a moment. Nothing ever pulled that emotion from her. Nothing but  _ this  _ and it had just been another stupid experiment, another test, another  _ trick.  _ Her face blackened with rage as the laughter boomed again; someone giddy, someone pleased with the results. Her chest tightened painfully and began to pulse with a familiar thrum of power - however, it felt different. Most of the time, to use her magic was instinct and purely towards herself, but this felt… intentional, somehow _.  _ She closed her eyes and focused on the gentle tugging in her ribs _.  _

 

Words flashed on her eyelids. 

 

_ LoVe: Error _

_ HoPe: Error _

_ FIGHT _ _ or  _ _ ACT _ _? _

 

“Oh, what the  _ fuck  _ is that?” the Voice stuttered, the microphone crackling with poor connection. “Daniels, what is it doing?”

 

She reached out tentatively and found that she could see an outline of her hand through her eyelids, reaching for her options. It hovered over FIGHT, hesitated, then she pressed on it like a button. 

 

“I don’t - h-hey, keep that away from me!” Daniels shouted from somewhere far, far away.

 

“Help me! It won’t disappear!” 

 

More words. Her breath quickened to a pant.  _ You do not have a weapon.  _

 

A burst of white light beyond her lids. Rubber-clay in her hands. She wanted… she wanted…

 

A knife.

 

_ Is this your weapon? _

  
_ Will you  _ **_FIGHT_ ** _? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! i really enjoy feedback, so comment and tell me what you think. will you fight, or will you act? choose wisely.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment and tell me what you think! I'm welcome to kudos too~


End file.
